


It'll Be Fun

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal and Will Making It Work, Idiots in Love, M/M, Murder Husbands without the Murder, Post Season 3, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5751256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Help me fix this boat engine,” he said.</i><br/><i>“It'll be fun,” he said... </i><br/> <br/>Hannibal gets roped into helping Will repair a boat engine, all in the name of coupledom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It'll Be Fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Devereauxs_Disease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/gifts).



> This entire thing was inspired by one photo. This photo:
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
>  
> 
> **Behold the power of Mads Mikkelsen!**  
> 

“Supporting your mate with their hobbies is what most couples do, you know.”

“We are not like most couples, Will.”

“How many times have I gone to the opera with you?” Will asked with an eyebrow raised.

Hannibal sat at the edge of their bed, pretending to try to count on one hand.

“That damn Wagner one was five hours long, Hannibal. FIVE HOURS.”

Hannibal was about to respond something along of the lines of how Will had seemed to actually enjoy it but seeing him look so divine in their bed, the covers pulled up to his waist, shirtless, holding a cup of coffee, hair adorably mussed, he knew he’d have to give in and not challenge him on this.

“I’m not asking you to eat a fast food hamburger, for Christ’s sake. I’m just asking you to come and spend time with me in the garage. I have this old motor I picked up last week, and I’m excited about working on it. We need to do more things together--”

Hannibal opened his mouth to speak and instantly Will jumped in, “And sex doesn’t count.”

Hannibal closed his mouth and slightly pursed his lips. 

Will added, “I mean, that’s not what I mean. Of course it counts, it counts. I love it. You know I love being with you, but I just feel we should do more things that don’t involve sex or food or murder -- or all of _your_ things.”

Hannibal sat on the edge of the bed looking at Will, looking at him.

“It’ll be fun.” Will parted his lips and bit his bottom one, looking at Hannibal while slightly tilting his head, sweetly holding his coffee mug closer to his face. Victory was his, he could tell.

“I suppose I could assist you. It could be very educational…I am sure you are well aware that I do not have any clothes appropriate to work in.”

Will smirked and said, “Too bad the murder suit is out of commission. You can wear some of my old clothes. They might be snug but I certainly won’t complain.” 

Hannibal’s lips quirked slightly as he leaned over to take Will’s mug for a sip of his coffee.

**+++**

After breakfast, Hannibal walked upstairs to change into an old pair of Will’s jeans that he left for him on the bed. They were stained with oil and smelled like some sort of mineral solvent. Hannibal looked at himself in the mirror and sighed as he put on Will’s denim shirt. Encephalitis was sitting on the floor of the bedroom as Hannibal changed, and tilted her head to the left upon seeing the final effect.

“Yes, I quite agree with you Encephalitis. This is absolutely not the Sunday attire of my preference.” He then headed downstairs to the garage.

**+++**

Will was already down in their garage with various tools and mechanical flotsam and jetsam spread out on a workbench. Attached precariously to a dolly, and suspended into a large plastic garbage can filled with water was a rusty, greasy, dirty boat motor. Their home was far enough away from any neighbors that Will felt comfortable leaving the garage door opened most of the time – much to Hannibal’s chagrin. 

When Hannibal entered the garage the first thing he did was assess the state of the “motor” that was before him. Rubbish. It looked quite at home in the trash bin, in fact. He wasn’t a mechanical expert by any means, but he knew garbage when he saw it. 

Then his eyes wandered over to Will who was wearing some grey track pants and an old white t-shirt with a hole about the size of a dime, over his right clavicle. Hannibal immediately wanted to put his tongue through the hole and lick Will’s clavicle. While Hannibal loved dressing up Will, there was something nostalgic and particularly alluring about rugged, Wolf Trap Will. Will was already in the middle of explaining something, but Hannibal was still fixated on that damn hole. 

Will noticing, loudly cleared his throat. A smile spread across his face as he continued, “So, as I was saying I have this rigged so that the motor is in the water and any oil that may spill will not land on the concrete floor. You should always have your boat motor in water when you try to run it. Do you know why?”

Hannibal looked at Will and responded with a sigh, “I imagine so that it won’t harm the engine when it starts, and the fumes will become trapped in the water?”

“Yes! Good. You should never run an engine out of water. It could damage it. Good job!”

Hannibal feeling petulant gave an over-the-top smile, which Will chose to ignore -- or pretended to ignore -- and continued, “We need to figure out why it's not firing. See all of that grime? It needs to be cleaned out. Here, come closer and look.”

Hannibal stood behind Will with his head peering over Will’s right shoulder looking down toward the motor. He could smell the oil on Will’s t-shirt and slowly pressed in closer. 

Will felt Hannibal’s nearby heat, and tried to tamp down the desire starting to build deep in his stomach. Hannibal’s breath grazed his neck, and Will forced himself to refocus on the task at hand. “O.K., so the weight of the head spinning is what should keep it going. This motor won't fire, and if it won't fire, it won't work. Right?”

Hannibal lowered his chin onto Will’s shoulder, “Oh, yes. The head.”

Will rolled his eyes with a smile and huff and continued, “This is an 8.8 Mariner motor. It's so old you have to crank it. And you can see it hasn't been touched in several years.”

“That sounds like a terrible fate, Will. Not being touched.” 

Will turned his head to glare at Hannibal and said, “If you aren’t going to take this seriously and really try, then you can just go back inside.”

Hannibal cleared his throat, feigning mock composure. “Yes, you are right. I am here because I agreed. It would be quite rude of me to not try and instead bend you over this table, slowly pull down your exercise pants with my teeth, while I run my hand from your lower back down to your ankles, and then rise to take you again and again until you are completely spent and satiated. Quite rude.”

Will looked at Hannibal, with his mouth completely agape, then pulled himself back into the moment shaking his head and grabbing a large wrench from the workbench. Hannibal, clearly pleased with himself, folded his arms and stood back to watch Will work.

“First let's take the bolts off the motor cover. I have my nut -- uh, _the_ nut -- loosened. Once that’s done, then we take the…head off the spindle.”

Hannibal said, “Yes, I see. By all means take the head, Will.”

Trying to ignore Hannibal’s innuendos, Will frowned and continued working. Hannibal watched Will’s forearm flex and began to wonder really, why are they here in that dirty garage instead of up in their bedroom enjoying a proper Sunday?

“Once the bolts are off, you give it a good whack so that this top part just pops off. Here…” and he handed the wrench to Hannibal.

“Very well.” Hannibal gingerly grabbed the wrench and start working on the remaining nuts and bolts. Will felt out of danger from falling for Hannibal’s seductive ways, and got back into his boat motor mind space.

“Now if you look down and notice the thickness of the shaft...” _Damn it_ , Will thought. “Uh...when the shaft comes down and taps the plug…" Will lost his train of thought, "I'll try to move it up and down and see if we get a spark.”

“I’d be more than happy to help you move the shaft up and down, Will.” Hannibal was practically giggling – if Hannibal had the capacity to giggle. At this point, Will just laughed and shook his head. 

“I make this too easy for you, don’t I?”

“I apologize. You’re right, Will. Let me help you with this.”

**+++**

They continued to work for half-an-hour or so, chatting a bit about their plans for the week: a stop at the new artisanal butcher shop that just opened so Hannibal can critique it, Encephalitis has an appointment for her rabies vaccine at the vet, there's dry cleaning to be picked up -– and it all feels so domestic to Will. Domestic and normal, which are words Will would _never_ think to associate with their relationship. 

Will stops and takes in all of Hannibal, looking him up and down: holey jeans sitting tightly on his hips, shirt newly smeared with oil and dirt, hands full of grease, hair gloriously and haphazardly out of place. Will is so smitten and suddenly filled with so much happiness. He handed Hannibal a canister and said, “Here, spray some of this contact cleaner in between the gears and we should be just about done.”

Hannibal let out a slight, nearly inaudible, sigh of relief that Will catches. 

“Are you kidding me?”

“About what?”

“You can’t wait to get out of here, can you? Damn it, Hannibal. I thought you were having fun doing this with me.”

“Will, I am here. With you. Helping you, just as you asked.”

“But I _want_ you to want to be here. I want you to _want_ to do this!”

“Why would I want to do this?” Hannibal calmly asked pointing to the motor. “Yes, I want to be with you but I have little interest in working on this motor, which in my opinion looks to be garbage. I doubt you will get it to run, Will.”

“Honest to Pete!” Will grabbed a greasy rag from the workbench, and wiped down the top of the motor cover as he yelled, “Well, you will be happy to hear that you don’t have to be here much longer.” Whether it was intentional or not, Will was not quite sure, he threw the rag and it is suddenly on top of Hannibal’s head. Hannibal pulled it off slowly, without saying a word. He simply looked at Will, with a grease-smeared face and proceeded to fold the rag and put it in his front pocket as if it were a pocket square.

Rather than make Will laugh, Hannibal’s action made Will even more exasperated. He turned back to the motor, making sure the spark plugs are tight puts the cover back on and said, “I’ll crank it a couple times and see what happens. Just stand out of the way,” and he shoos Hannibal motioning for him to step back. Hannibal stands far behind Will to watch.

Will wrapped a cord around the top of the motor and pulled back hard. Once, nothing happens. Twice, again nothing. Just as he’s about to go for a third, Hannibal leaned in to offer to try and Will ended up hitting Hannibal with this elbow causing him to lose his balance and start to stumble back. Instinctively, Will turned around quickly and tried to catch Hannibal, pulling the motor and the garbage can down with him spilling water and oil over the entire garage floor, Hannibal, and himself. 

Will was on his ass, the can and motor barely missing his legs. His legs and entire torso are drenched. Hannibal is flat on his back, staring up at the garage ceiling, as dirty motor water gently flows around him heading toward the slope and drain in the floor.

The two stay put for a moment, stunned at the turn of events while Encephalitis barks loudly at them. Will turns slowly and looks toward Hannibal, still supine.

“Spend time with me...” Hannibal said in a slightly mocking tone, “It’ll be fun...”

Will looked at Hannibal and can’t stop himself from laughing. “Here lies Count Hannibal Lecter, VIII,” he says. 

He rolled onto all fours and crawled over to Hannibal, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Hannibal, who up until that moment was still staring at the ceiling, looked into Will’s eyes and with a look of mirth, pulled Will down onto the wet ground next to him, turning on his side, cupping his face with both hands pressing a strong open mouthed kiss onto Will’s lips. 

Their mouths quickly searched for deeper contact; tongues caressing desperately. Hands grasping and unzipping, pulling and pushing. Will pulled away long enough to murmur into Hannibal’s mouth, “Spend time with me. It’ll be fun.”

So much for doing things together that don’t involve sex.

**+++**

Hannibal was sitting on the floor leaning against the workbench, hair completely disheveled and damp, his shirt unbuttoned. He couldn’t button it even if he tried, Will made sure of it. Those buttons never stood a chance. Will was sprawled next to him wearing nothing but his track pants, and has his head on Hannibal’s lap. He was gingerly touching his scraped and bloody knees through the rips of his track pants. 

“This stings, you know. I think I have fabric burns.”

“Mmm…I’ll clean your knees when we go back inside. We should -- go back inside. I will run you a bath.” Hannibal carded his hands through Will’s hair. “I believe you have grease in your hair.”

“That’ll happen. Hazard of the hobby, I suppose…” Will squeezed Hannibal’s inner thigh, and turned his head to look up at him. “So, thanks.”

“There’s no need, Will. I’m the one that should be thanking you for wanting to include me more in all aspects of your life, even the most mundane,” he said with a smile while Will gently slapped Hannibal’s thigh. 

Hannibal added, “I’m sorry I was difficult about it.”

“I know _this_ ,” Will said as he gestured toward the entire garage, “isn’t really your thing, so I appreciate you tried.”

Hannibal leaned down just as Will stretched up toward him and they kissed each other gently on the lips. Will then pressed himself upright, stood and offered Hannibal a hand.

As they walked inside the house, with Encephalitis trotting behind them, Will realized that they are, for all intents and purposes, a fairly normal couple. They are there for each other during good and bad, they care for one another when they are sick or down, they support each other in most things -- even if they don’t want to be there 100% (FIVE HOURS, HANNIBAL) and for that he is grateful. 

And if he ever says they need to do more things together that don’t include sex, Hannibal has every right to kick him in the ass.

**Author's Note:**

> For Devereaux's Disease. Aw, ya big cutie!
> 
> Come say hi and visit me [on Tumblr](http://wrathofthestag.tumblr.com/).


End file.
